He had my hamper of eatables and my bundle of bedding.

Tired of waiting for him, I went for a walk to the telegraph office and was turning to come back, when I met the faithful skeleton, a mile from the inn, walking along as if to a funeral, his neck elongating from side to side like a camel's, a lean and hungry look in his staring eyes, his bones crackling inside his skin.

Continuing in the direction that he was going when I found him, he might have reached Thibet in time, but never Burma.

I led him back to the hotel, where he ruefully showed me his empty string of cash, as if that had been the cause of his delay; he had only 6 cash left, and he wanted an advance.
This was the worst coolie I had in my employ during my journey.

But he was a good-natured fellow and honest.